A New Way to Know follows Francis Bacon from a questioning boy to a power-brokering statesman, only to learn how costly truth can be when evidence collides with loyalty and politics. What drew you to Francis Bacon as a middle-grade protagonist?

What drew me to Francis Bacon as a middle-grade protagonist is that, before he was famous, he was simply a curious kid. Long before he became a powerful statesman or philosopher, he was a boy who asked a lot of questions, sometimes too many for the adults around him.

Middle school students understand that feeling. They live in a world where adults often say, “Because that’s just how it is.” Bacon was the kind of kid who answered, “But why?” That curiosity made him stand out. It also sometimes got him into trouble. I think many young readers can relate to that.

I was also drawn to the tension in his life between truth and loyalty. Growing up around the court of Elizabeth I, he saw how politics and power often mattered more than facts. Later, his friendship with Robert Devereux, 2nd Earl of Essex, forced him to face a very hard choice: What do you do when someone you care about is wrong? Do you protect your friend, or do you stand by the truth? That is a question young people understand, because friendships and loyalty are a big part of their lives.

Another reason I chose Bacon is that his greatest contribution wasn’t just one big discovery. It was a new way of thinking. He believed people should observe the world, test ideas, and look for evidence instead of just repeating what older books said. That message is powerful for young readers. It tells them that their curiosity matters. It tells them they don’t have to accept something just because it’s old or because someone important said it.

As a classroom teacher, I’ve seen how exciting it is when a student realizes, “I can think for myself.” Bacon’s story shows that even someone who helped shape modern science started out as a kid sitting in a classroom, feeling frustrated when his questions weren’t answered.

In the end, I was drawn to Francis Bacon because he wasn’t perfect. He was smart and ambitious, but he also made mistakes. He struggled with big choices. That makes him real. His story shows that searching for truth isn’t always easy, and doing the right thing can be painful. But it also shows that one curious kid with a notebook can change the way the world thinks.

What did you most want kids to feel about Francis Bacon beyond “famous thinker”?

More than anything, I wanted kids to see Francis Bacon as a person, not just a “famous thinker” whose name appears in a textbook.

Today, many of us benefit from ideas like the scientific method without ever thinking about the struggle it took to bring those ideas into the world. We enjoy the results. We quote the principles. But we don’t always see the cost. I wanted young readers to feel the weight of that cost.

Bacon didn’t just wake up one day and become important. He questioned teachers who didn’t like being questioned. He challenged traditions that had stood for centuries. He lived in a world where loyalty to powerful people, including figures like Elizabeth I, could matter more than evidence. He had to balance ambition, truth, friendship, and survival. Those pressures weren’t abstract; they were personal and painful.

So, beyond “famous thinker,” I wanted kids to feel his courage. Not loud, dramatic courage — but the quieter kind. The kind that keeps asking questions even when adults sigh. The kind that stands by truth even when it costs you friendships. The kind that keeps working on an idea when no one else fully understands it yet.

I also wanted them to feel empathy. Big ideas don’t float into the world on their own. They are carried by real people who doubt, struggle, fail, and try again. When kids understand that, they begin to see that greatness isn’t magic. It’s built — often slowly, often painfully.

If young readers finish the book thinking, “He was brave,” or “He paid a price,” or even, “That must have been hard,” then they’re seeing him clearly.

The modern classroom experiment frames Bacon’s legacy without hero-worship. What made you choose that structure, and what do you hope teachers or students do with it after finishing the book?

I chose the modern classroom experiment because I didn’t want Francis Bacon to feel distant or untouchable.

It’s easy to turn historical figures into marble statues that are impressive, but cold. I didn’t want hero-worship. I wanted my readers to have a connection. By framing his legacy through a modern classroom experiment, students can see that Bacon’s ideas aren’t trapped in the 1600s. They’re alive. They’re practical. They’re something a twelve-year-old can try tomorrow.

The classroom structure also does something important: it shifts the spotlight. Instead of saying, “Look how great Bacon was,” it quietly asks, “What happens when you try this way of thinking yourself?” The focus moves from admiration to participation.

As a longtime teacher, I’ve seen that students understand concepts best when they experience them. Reading about observation and evidence is one thing. Testing a question, collecting data, and discovering that your prediction was wrong, or right, that’s powerful. It creates ownership. And ownership matters more than memorization.

I also hope teachers use that structure as permission. Permission to slow down. Permission to let students ask messy questions. Permission to let them be wrong and then figure out why. Bacon’s method wasn’t about having the right answer immediately. It was about building a careful path toward truth.

What is the next book that you are working on, and when will it be available?

My next historical fiction project brings René Descartes to life for young readers.

If A New Way to Know explores how Francis Bacon helped shape a new method for discovering truth through observation and evidence, this next book shifts the focus to a different but equally powerful question: What can we know for certain? Descartes wrestled with doubt, reason, and the foundations of knowledge in a way that still influences how we think today.

As with Bacon, I’m not interested in presenting Descartes as a statue in a textbook. I want readers to see the human being — the young man who questioned everything, who struggled with uncertainty, and who tried to build a framework for truth from the ground up.

The book will be available this fall. I’m excited to continue the journey of introducing students to the thinkers behind the ideas they often take for granted — showing not just what they concluded, but what it cost them to get there.

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